


Of City Walks and Coffee Shops

by jjcrossject



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I really love them ok, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life AU, based in California(ish), daehyun loves cheesecake, daehyun-centric, daejae - Freeform, description heavy for the most part, enjoy!!!!!, fluffy and summery, light and cute, not really even a relationship just first meetings, pls watch the mv again I know it's been so long, that's it really, they filmed the mv there so i mean, you'll know what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjcrossject/pseuds/jjcrossject
Summary: Everything unexpected bound to come his way will be welcomed with open arms.





	Of City Walks and Coffee Shops

**Author's Note:**

> Something written on a whim inspired by BAP's 'Coffee Shop'; intended to be light and fluffy and a fic for happy summer days :D
> 
> Okay so because I based it off the teaser, and drew /lots/ of inspiration from it, you obviously have to listen to it while reading, LOL. Shhh trust me it’ll be worth it. As well, listen to the sounds of the sea (but on a lower volume in the background); the mood it creates is so awesome. ;u; Try it out and tell me what you think!
> 
> **originally posted on my lj

**don't know how to html in Notes so here

[Coffee Shop – Teaser](http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=PBbf4gMlC0g) & [Sea sounds](http://en.ecosounds.net/sea/sounds-of-the-sea-and-ocean-splashing-waves-light-breeze-and-sea-gulls/)

-

In a certain corner of the city, on a certain Sunday morning, a man wakes. He awakens to the playful sunbeams, dancing in perfect, uniform rays along his creamy comforter. They make the dust particles in the room sparkle with a life of their own before they’re crawling over to the half-asleep figure snuggled in the heap of blankets and pillows. They tickle over his bare chest, slowly warming up to the crevices of his fair complexion, finally succeeding when the said figure gives up on trying to shut them out, and welcomes them with a bleary morning smile. He sits up, arms stretching lazily over his head as he glances around his orderly room; his mahogany dresser on one side, television mantled on the wall opposite him, his beautiful potted plants sitting neatly in one corner. It’s the same as it’s always been. The way it should be. He yawns, finally shuffling out from beneath his thick covers and towards the floor-to-ceiling window awaiting him, white linen curtains fluttering under the breeze that trickles comfortably into the room, swaying the dress-like ends of the material to a soundless melody.  
  
The man merely stands there without a word, squinting out into the blaring sunlight from the sixteenth floor of his condominium, genuinely relaxing because it’s been a while since he’s had this sort of comfort wash over him. It's one of those lazy weekends where you know schedules don't have to be fulfilled, people don't have to be met, and where he can finally have time to himself. It's the kind of day where you’re allowed to stop and smell the roses. He lets himself breathe, watches both the slow and fast-moving pedestrians bouncing along the streets, spreading every which way as they each decide a destination of their own. And there, standing before his window, blankets unmade, hair tousled hastily and still in his pyjama bottoms, he smiles.  
  
Today is going to be a good day.  
  
Later, when he’s freshly washed and smelling like his new cinnamon-y cologne, he brushes slender fingers through his newly-cut fringe and decides that maybe, just for today, he doesn’t need to style it. He’s not out to impress today; he’s not meant to please anyone but himself, even if just for one day. But lazy days don’t mean he has to let loose completely, either. The brunette decides as much as he makes deft work of his cuffs, effortlessly sliding the buttons into their places before his nimble fingers move to adjust the pristine white collar of his clean-pressed dress shirt, occasionally flicking his gaze over to the bathroom mirror for stray wrinkles. He wants to look good, for himself. He wants to feel presentable when he goes wherever he ends up – probably someplace he’ll come up with on a whim. Not for anybody else, just for himself.  
  
Besides, he’s been waiting for a chance to slip into that new leather jacket he bought last month.  
  
-  
  
He stands outside the condo, at the edge of the curb that splits into two main roads – the one he chooses to follow today will ultimately decide his destination. He knows. Too bad lazy Sundays mean you have to take your time, leave you with the obligatory duty of rushing nothing; of stopping ever so often so that you can actually enjoy life as it is. Ah, the fresh air of Los Angeles. A breeze sweeps across his forehead and he closes his eyes as it curls into the hazelnut-coloured locks, hugging each strand as it flutters in the haze of movements. The park in the near distance stretches for a block in front of him. A bicycle whizzes by under a rustling green canopy. A slow, familiar jazz tune brushes by his ear as it’s carried throughout the air, and he almost wants to follow it, just to see where it leads him. Traffic this morning is leisurely, the soothing hum of the occasional city bus blends easily with the blinking lights at the crossing. He notices a double-decker roll by for the first time that day – have they always been there?  
  
Finally, he chooses to go straight ahead. He knows maybe a couple corners of that park; he’s seen a gazebo there and has been wondering what kinds of people drop by to play live music for the public ear every couple weeks. Making his way along the cobblestone path, a picnic blanket greets him. He glances up to the people scattered along the large patch of grass; conversing, playing, laughing. It makes him miss the days he had back home, too. There’s a guitar strumming nearby, though his interest is peaked when he finds what he’s looking for – a stage set with smiling faces, an electric piano in the hands of one, a saxophone in the other, and an electric guitar plucked gracefully in the corner. He makes note of his surroundings; doesn’t forget to greet his  _good mornings_  and  _hellos_  when he passes them by with a wider grin.  
  
His stroll takes him down towards the pier, then. It’s not too far from the park and he hears it’s buzzing with street vendors and chalk artists on any warm summer’s day. He finds this is true when he first encounters the lakeside – it’s been an even longer while since he was last here – and has to do a double take at all the things he’s never noticed were there. Heavy suede boots clunk across the wooden planks of the boardwalk as he takes his time with every step, hums along to the tune he’s just heard, or smiles at every face he happens to come across; all those little things he’s never found the time to do during a day when he’s rushing to work.  
  
He finds a spot along the railings of the pier and heaves himself onto it – he finds he can observe everything and everyone else much easier from this angle. He isn’t looking for anything in particular, really. His gaze lands on a booth over by the ice cream stand and he makes out some fabrics and handmade accessories; he lets his eyes slide over and there’s a guy with an amplifier, strumming tunes he’s heard a couple times on the radio. The guitarist isn’t too bad at all, if the piling coins in his open guitar case is anything to go by. Where the guitarist sits, there’s a large easel some ways away, displaying personal works of art that the vendor has out along with a couple more scattered on the ground. He recognizes some as recreations of Van Gogh and Monet – they seem to be a favoured preference among the people here.  
  
Seagulls caw at each other behind him, wings flap and beaks peck; he turns his head to the sight of perfectly aligned sailboats, watching the way the tips of their masts dipped and bobbled along with the gentle rolling of the tide, listening to the foaming waves that are lapping and knocking alongside the lightly creaking boats. The beautiful blue-green water in its contrast with the pure white sand makes for a landscape that's absolutely breathtaking. The way the waves push in against the rocks before rolling out again, in a steady, unhurried pattern is music to his ears, a perfect marriage with the hushed chitter-chatter of his fellow pedestrians and the rattling of the food carts as they rumble across the planks. A breath taken here is so much clearer than the ones clouding his lungs in the middle of nonstop traffic; so much calmer because he isn’t stuck with a pounding headache.  
  
His eyes land on a figure, suddenly, moving along the wide curve of the water’s edge. It's another young man, one who looks to be no more than his own age. Trousers rolled to his knees, bent into a squat along the bed of rock, the boy seems to be searching for that perfect, rounded pebble that’ll win him a personal match of rock-skipping as it hops across the surface of the glistening lake. The thought makes the man himself chuckle; again recounting the memories of the countless times he’s found himself in that same situation. There is something… something about the way the pale boy skips along the sand, bare toes imprinting into the wet sand, occasionally calling out to the birds as if he were to join in on their communication. Dark, doe-like orbs squint into the flaring rays of the sun before they’re shaded with a hand, gaze pointed towards the cloudless blue sky. The tight knit grey sweater he's clad in wraps his arms and chest in all the right places, curving down into a slender waistline that sits on top of his grey trousers; and he watches as the breath of the sea sweeps through the porous material of the very shirt that he's positive conceals a smooth expanse of milky white skin. A black beanie adorning his wavy, chocolate brown hair gives emphasis to even deeper eyes of both innocence and youth, something he definitely— shit, how long has he been staring? Long enough, unfortunately, because as if on cue, the said boy catches his gaze, lips curling into a friendly smile at which he returns, before turning away with embarrassment. He wants one more peek— oh, he’s gone.  
  
With another longing glance at the pier, he sighs, dusting his hands on his side before hopping off the railing in hopes of finding even more discoveries on his journey today.  
  
It is definitely a very, very good day.  
  
-  
  
The shuffling of his feet as they carry him down the bumpy pebblestones leave him the impression of following the infamous Yellow Brick Road in that movie he’s seen so many times. He’s amused, in such a way which he thinks he’s just like Dorothy in some ways. After all, he’s trying to find himself all the same through a spontaneous adventure, isn’t he? Everything unexpected bound to come his way will be welcomed with open arms. New people and new experiences are triggers for exciting new voyages and he’s looking forward to them all. Palm trees and streetlamps line the streets, each adding to the romantic ambience of the atmosphere he enjoys so much. Today is just warm enough for it not to be hot; it’s perfect t-shirt and shorts weather but it isn’t the kind of warmth that wraps itself unrelentingly around you and leaves your back drenched and face red. He thinks about his past years, his past lovers; thinks about how much he’d love to have someone to hold in his arms, to have someone to share this moment with. Being in love… it must be nice.  
  
His aimless trail ventures him to the city centre, where it’s a whole different picture and a whole new view from what he witnessed back at the seaside. An intricately carved fountain sits in the middle of a large, open plaza, and he finds himself scanning over the multiple specialty shops, roadside stands and city diners that lie scattered before him with the occasional wave of city-goers scurrying to and fro; walking dogs and chasing buses, yelling on cellphones and checking watches. It’s no wonder the population is so restless nowadays. He notices an elderly man just beginning to set up booth, and he wanders over in lieu of finding something to occupy his time. The makeshift shelves, hooks and display boards are adorned with an assortment of what looks like handmade jewellery, rings and necklaces alike. The man greets him with a nod and a  _“feel free to try on whatever you like”_  before turning back to his original set up. Leather bracelets, woven chokers… nothing really catches his attention until something sparkles from the corner of his eyes, and they land on a rounded silver cross, dangling delicately from a simple nylon chain. He reaches for it, expecting to feel the cool touch of metal under his fingertips, but is instead met with a smooth, warm— wait. He looks up, blinking, taking in the high cheekbones and sparkling eyes that seem to hold a smile even if his lips aren’t. It's him. The guy from the beach. Jerking his hand away, he attempts an awkward laugh and mutters something along the lines of  _you can have it,_  mentally kicking himself for being so lame. The other smiles, again, and he watches as he pays, thanking the man with a nod. And then he’s gone as quickly as he came.  
  
 _Damn._  
  
-  
  
The next thing he knows, his nostrils are being heavily wafted with the dripping of aromatic coffee and his ears the melodic clinks of forks against plates. Mm, yes. This is definitely where he was meant to end up after all that distance. He takes a deep breath, takes in the buttery croissants and sugary tarts, already moving to claim his place in the queue as he spares a glance at the menu hanging behind the barista. The hunger’s really getting to him, and his eyes lock on the luscious cheesecake sitting in the large glass case. He’s thinking he’ll get a nice cup of macchiato to go with it, too, and--  
  
“You’re just all over the place today, aren’t you?” He spins around at the sound of a chirpy, spirited voice from directly behind him and nearly falls out of his skin when he realizes who it is. “Are you stalking me?”  
  
“I- I- No, I swear, I-“  
  
He’s met with a wide smile and crinkled eyes before those plump, pillowy pink lips part in an angelic, airy laugh that sounds as smooth as the syrup on his blueberry cheesecake.  
  
“Aww, is someone blushing? Cute. Why haven’t I seen you around before?”  
  
He coughs, tearing his gaze away before mumbling an incoherent reply that has the other laughing again.  
  
“Oh c’mon, I was teasing~” Another pause. Silence. “I’m Youngjae, by the way,” the younger male finally grins, extending a hand as if he does this to random strangers all the time. Which he probably does.  
  
“Daehyun.” He manages, cracking the smallest of smiles before sliding his hand easily into the slightly smaller one of the petite boy.  
  
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daehyun. You were the one at the pier earlier, right? What do you think? Do you like it? I personally love it there, it’s so peaceful and quiet and I can listen to the birds and the waves and sometimes the silence is just so _nice_.”  
  
“How ironic.” It's barely audible, but Youngjae catches it anyway. Daehyun looks up, their gazes locking for the briefest of moments before they burst into simultaneous laughter.  
  
Today has been a wonderful day.  
  
Lots of things have happened in his day.  
  
He thinks maybe he’s just made a new friend.  
  
He thinks maybe he needs many more days like this.  
  
And he thinks that maybe, just maybe, his day just got a little bit better.

-


End file.
